


The Final Night

by erzhebet



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Acceptance, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:56:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4078792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erzhebet/pseuds/erzhebet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy counts the nights that pass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Final Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! It's been a very long while since I've written a fic. Please forgive me if any characters seem out-of-character, I'm doing my best to write better. Any tips or observations for writing is appreciated!

The first night, he cried. He roared at the laptop screen that still relayed the signal from Harry's glasses, aimed up at the sky, unmoving and unresponsive. He screamed at the top of his lungs wild noises that bore no words, no coherent thoughts but instead pitifully attempted to convey the strangling mix of emotions that coursed through his body. Eggsy felt rage, despair, contempt, and a shred of desperation that urged him to demand that Harry get up off the ground. For the next few hours amidst the constant stream of tears and the occasional contortion of his face, Eggsy was only disappointed by the unchanging picture until Merlin was left with no choice but to disconnect it.

A blank, dark screen didn't stop the cries and did nothing to ease the pain.

The second night followed a day of hard work. Eggsy had done so well to keep himself occupied, only to return to an empty home. Everything felt quiet, distant. As Harry had no next of kin, it was decided that it was acceptable for Eggsy to occupy Harry's residence until things were more sorted out and the immediate situation was less of a threat. Eggsy made his way through each of the rooms, looking at them carefully in silence and simply taking in the memory of it all. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Harry there in the room with him, the soft echo of his voice. His memory began to linger on each of the words said, words of advice that he wished he had absorbed.

It was a night filled with recollection and regret.

The third night was absolutely unbearable. There were so many instances where Eggsy wanted to ask Harry a question, show him how much he had improved and changed, but all that could be managed was a raspy whisper of Harry's name and the answer of silence. Every single instance was a singeing reminder that Harry was gone and this was fact that Eggsy couldn't escape from. The texture of the wall paint was smooth under his fingers and suddenly, he found himself back in the office. His breath hitched as he gazed about the room to finally settle his line of sight on the desk. Everything seemed to flash back into his mind vividly, but soundlessly. The memories seemed to be in slow motion at first, just replaying. His heart hammered as he realized that everything he had seen was through the eyes of Harry.

What would Eggsy think if he had seen the expressions on Harry's face? The hideous events that had transpired at the church, what did Harry look like through it all? Were his eyebrows knitted in typical anger? Were his teeth bared as a display of intimidation? What was the look on his face as Harrry questioned with a broken voice what Valentine had done to him? The last memory that Eggsy had was the disappointed look and unsatisfied tone when Harry had said he would come back to sort this out later.

Not a smile, not a nod of approval, not even wise words of a gentleman to remember him fondly. Above all, there was no chance at redemption. He would never be able to apologize properly to Harry and truly mean it with his actions. A short gasping sob escaped his throat, accompanied by a steady stream of stinging tears. Eggsy sobbed in silence as if he was a shattered glass figurine that was falling apart piece by piece.

The fourth night was filled with silence. The fifth night was filled with distractions. The sixth night was simply dedicated to piecing the broken pieces back together. He had left most of everything in the flat untouched, only using what he had to. One new addition though, was the small booklet beside the laptop on the dark wood desk. Eggsy had handwritten the headline of The Sun out along with the date. Scratching a small note underneath it, it read 'The day we met,' until the last two words were scratched out and replaced to read 'The day Harry had me released from the police.' The list continued, free-flowing and energetic.

'The day Harry woke up, completely unshaven.' 'The day I got fitted for my first suit.' 'The day I kept true to my word for the loyalty test.'

'The day you died.' After the last note was punctuated, there was a brief pause, and the pen was set down.

Eggsy wasn't sure how many nights had passed until he considered it the final night of his mourning. Rather, he was no longer counting nights since and instead remembering the days that Harry had lived. The days they were together. The words that he had said and the things that he had done, just for Eggsy. As he stood in front of the tall mirror, sliding his overcoat over his shoulders and buttoning it up, a smile spread across his lips. Lifting an umbrella from the neatly arranged rack on his way out the door, Eggsy turned his head to the sky and gazed at the brilliant blue dusted with wisps of clouds.

It was unusually clear and equally unusual for how bright it was, but through the glasses that were once pointed up at the same distant sky, Eggsy felt at peace. Striding forward decisively, it was his final night, but it was also the beginning of a new day.


End file.
